


Spread Your Legs

by csquared225



Series: Codas to Agents of SHIELD [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, M/M, Oral Sex, Pheels, Tender Sex, bottom!Phil, top!Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-09 01:00:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/csquared225/pseuds/csquared225
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coda to The Asset. Phil had his legs spread pretty wide when he was thrown up against that wall last week. Clint decides he needs a repeat of the experience (without the almost being blown up thing, of course).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spread Your Legs

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: I’ve decided to write a fic for every. Single. Week. Of Agents of SHIELD. Because I’m nuts like that. And I want to get in all of the Phlint I can before we’re hit with the sad realization that…Phil is probably an LMD. And I will be heartbroken and sad so denial is my drug of choice for now.  
> 10/15/13: I didn’t manage to get this posted before this week’s episode and I heard a rumor that Phil is a cyborg now and just  
> Have some smut, okay?

“What do you MEAN you almost got yourself blown up?”

  
Phil sighed as he stopped in the midst of telling the story of the mission-of-the-week. Clint had been okay throughout the gunfight and almost being fried by the laser walls, but he had to go and mention Hall’s plan to blow everyone up and not evacuating immediately.  
  
“It wasn’t as bad as it sounds, Clint,” he said calmly. “I trusted my team to get their part done, and they did. Then I did mine. I’ve been in literal explosive situations before.”

 

“Not without me or Fury there to back you up,” the archer grumbled. “I heard them talking, said you were kind of...frazzled at the end.”

Phil snorted.  
  
“Gravity got...twisted. I ended up upside down, sprawled against--I think it used to be the floor--”

“You are damn good at spreading your legs, sir.”

 

“Shut up, Barton.”

 

“Ooh, burn. I feel sufficiently taken care of.”  
  
“Do you want to find out just how far I can spread my legs after I’m done or not?”  
  
“...Carry on.”

 

“So I expect I looked a little more rumpled than usual. And I didn’t want to have to kill him,” he admitted more softly. “I took the shot without hesitation of course, but he shouldn’t have had to die.”

 

Clint softened as well.

 

“I know, sir. But it was thousands of people’s lives or his. You did what you had to do.”

 

Phil nodded mutely; he decided he didn’t even want to mention the bit about not being able to work a gun right now, he’d tell Clint later. The mood felt officially killed, and he let Clint tug him further down the bed to lay his head on his lap. Normally it was the opposite, Clint snuggling up to him and demanding to be petted in that silent, stubborn way he had. Or a sleepy Clint drifting off on his knee, or more fun times when Clint was bending over his lap to get spanked.

 

Perhaps the mood wasn’t quite dead yet. He knew right now it was more of his mind trying to distract itself, but he’d take what he could get. Clint understood that better than anyone. He could certainly feel him perk up when Phil’s hips shifted in a subtle tell only his lover knew.

 

“Mmm, thinking of what you could be doing in that position right now?” Phil could feel the leer on his head and rolled his eyes fondly.

 

“Thinking of you bending over for me, but I suppose it’s the same idea. I do believe I said I’d show you how far my legs can spread?”

 

“I don’t know, Phil. Wouldn’t want you to throw your back out in your old age…”

 

“Clint.”

 

“So, where’d we put the lube last night? Think I tossed it somewhere ‘cause you were going too slow…”

 

Phil smiled and shifted off of his lap to let the archer wiggle onto his stomach and search around on the floor in front of their bedside table. The view was satisfying, and he gave into the urge he’d been thinking of the entire time, laying a playful smack on that well muscled ass that was all. His.

 

The resulting yelp was equally as satisfying, and he had the pleasure of watching Clint straighten up, hair messy from rooting around on the floor (they’d gotten...excited last night, and there were clothes and pillows and what Phil suspected was a feather boa for some reason littered about). He tried for an indignant look but just ended up looking mischievous instead.

 

“I walked right into that, didn’t I?”

 

“Entirely. Now get over here and stretch me open.”

 

“Sir, yes sir!”  
  
He actually managed a laugh as Clint pounced on him, kissing him with enthusiasm only he could have, and they shed their clothes in quick succession, the t-shirt and boxers combination they’d thrown on to make breakfast (grease burns hurt one’s dick, as Clint could attest to--he’d been out of commission for a week).

 

Even in a hurry, the archer was as thorough as Phil himself; he’d been more of a wham-bam guy before, but he’d learned from his lover that taking it slow and getting all the details could be just as satisfying, if not more. He kissed his way down from Phil’s lips to his chin, jaw--pausing to suck on a mark he’d left there last night and ignoring protests that his team already gave him enough trouble with how he’d been walking funny after their last bout of sex--and neck, sucking on his Adam’s Apple, collarbone and nosing at his nipples where he was less sensitive than the over-reactive Clint himself, his navel, and finally licked over his dick like a lollipop.

 

Phil had seen Clint eat lollipops before this thing between them had started. It had been the worst torture he’d ever been through, and he’d been electrocuted while soaking wet with branding burns and whip lashes on his back once.

 

He groaned and let Clint work. His archer had an oral fixation and he was always happy to indulge him. He made a soft noise of surprise when the first finger breached him; he’d been so distracted by the wet mouth on him that he hadn’t felt him move. He took the first easily, relaxed as he was, and accepted the second as Clint scraped his teeth over his shaft. That talkative mouth was finally freed as another finger slid inside.

  
“Fuck, still can’t believe you let me do this. Always took you as the ultimate top, the way you get when you’re in your Senior Agent Mode, snapping out commands… But you get so submissive when my fingers are up your ass, roll over for me and fucking beg for it…”  
  
Phil would have rolled his eyes, but instead they rolled to the back of his head when Clint deftly curled his fingers to press firmly against his prostate. He keened and pressed back against his clever digits.  
  
“Exactly like that. Such a slut for me, Phil. I love it, love that I’m the only one who does this to you--”  
  
“If you don’t hurry up,” he gritted out, “you’re not going to be the one to do this at all, I’ll get that purple dildo and do this my--FUCK--self.” Clint had abused the power of the prostate again. The little shit.

 

“You couldn’t live without this dick, sir.”

 

“You’re a dick. I don’t need four fingers, get inside of me or I’m pinning you down and riding you.”

 

Clint had himself slicked up and pressing inside within five seconds. He did so love his former asset’s efficiency. He sighed pleasantly as the familiar stretch and burn washed over him. He wrapped his legs around Clint’s waist once he was fully inside, and clenched around him experimentally. Twin groans echoed around the room.

 

“Fuck, you feel good,” Clint breathed, forehead resting against Phil’s. They were breathing the same air, the scent of mint toothpaste from brushing their teeth after breakfast being inhaled on either side. “Missed this, Phil.” It was technically their first time like this since before his lover’s resurrection.

 

“I missed it, too.” He cupped Clint’s face as he saw his eyes glaze over in memory. “Hey. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere, okay? We’re going to get to do this again and again, I promise.”

 

It was a promise he knew he shouldn’t have said and might not be able to keep, but Clint took it for what it was anyway.

 

“Mmm, that mean you can go two rounds this time, Phil?” Clint began to rock into him slowly, muscle memory taking over as his body remembered this, the body beneath him and how it felt when he did this. He kissed over Phil’s face, more tender than usual; he wanted to savor his face, that he was still here and alive with him, in one piece and just...Phil. The same smell and feel and flavor.

 

Phil blinked away wetness he felt welling in his eyes as Clint took such good care of him. He was normally less tender, more passionate, but when he turned on his sensitive side he gave it his all. He unwrapped his legs from around his waist and used the newfound flexibility he’d had since Tahiti, bending his legs back and spreading them open for Clint, who caught on quickly and pressed down on the backs of his thighs.

 

“Fuck, you’re beautiful, sir.” Sir had long become an endearment as well as the title of respect it had started out as between them. Phil tugged him down for another kiss in response, pleased that he was still able to hold his position as he did so.

 

“Harder, Clint. Want to feel it. Please.”

 

Wordlessly, Clint pistoned in harder, balls slapping against Phil’s rear, pressing down more to give him friction from their bellies so his cock stopped slapping against his abdomen with each thrust. Phil gasped into his mouth, and Clint changed his angle to hit his prostate.

 

“Come on, Phil. Wanna see you let go, come on my cock. Can you do that for me?”

 

“Fuck, Clint.”

 

With words like that, how could he not? He whimpered into Phil’s mouth and spilled between them, clenching down and milking his lover of his own climax, pumping deep inside of him. They collapsed, Phil easily bearing Clint’s muscular weight on top of him. He stroked his hair, listening to their heartbeats slow down and even out, breath come less harshly.

 

“I’m getting an extra day this time unless the world is ending. Let’s just spend it doing this. Sound good?” He buried his nose into the short-cropped hair and inhaled the familiar musk. Clint nodded into his chest.

 

“Perfect. Love you Phil.”

 

“Love you too.”  
  


**The End**


End file.
